


Too much

by MinaB



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bamon, Best Friends, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Magic, Post Season 8, Season 8, What's new, bonnie's magic is back, he's watching her do magic, mentions of Elena, mentions of Enzo, mentions of Stefan, mentions of Sybil, they're fighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 05:17:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8652424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinaB/pseuds/MinaB
Summary: "Too much, always too much, and never enough. Always just pushing people away or holding onto them too tightly and they always want to leave. Maybe letting go should have a chance?" Or maybe they can become enough for someone.





	

Damon watched her moving. He didn’t do it often – mainly because she would eventually find him and send this _look_ his way – but when it did happen, he was transfixed. Bonnie  had her grimoire in her lap, back against the couch, eyes closed and breathing deep as she mumbled the spell and Damon could _not_ move his gaze away. Not even when he heard Stefan rumbling downstairs, no doubt stuck in a conversation with Barbie.

Bonnie's voice rose, air growing heady in the light of her magic, and slowly her eyes opened, glowing hazel-green in the sunlight. She must have spent a lot of power for the spell because she’d been sweating, the evidence of it sticking to her clothes and her brown skin, lines of water curling around her neck and softly rolling underneath the hem of her dress. He swallowed thickly, his lips dry suddenly and his hands too restless. He was too anxious, too wired being this close to her. He felt things he hadn’t thought he’d ever be able to feel again, not after Sybil. It ruined him, that woman. She messed with him and changed everything around, reorganized his mind without his consent or even knowledge. Just the thought of her was _too much._

“Can you go?” she asked, not even bothering to turn towards him, her hair swaying as she stood up and turned to place the grimoire onto the bed with care. She was angry. She was always angry at him. She never stopped being angry nowadays, not since he returned from under Sybil’s control, not since she and Enzo called it quits. If he was honest with himself, he could have maybe admitted that that she’d never been not angry since he chose to desiccate, but he was rarely that honest. He admired her though, admired her determination, her stubbornness, her perseverance. And he’d missed her. Missed her too much, despite Sybil’s tricks still playing with his head – now, months later he still couldn’t figure out if Elena’s jaw was more squared or not or he’d sometimes forget just how short Bonnie really was.

“I could...” Damon began, letting the syllables stretch on his tongue. “But what’s the fun in that, huh Bon Bon?” there was a smile on his face that she could see, but it was missing from his eyes. She hated that she knew him as well as she did, hated that even after everything she still cared that much. _Too much._

“I’m not in the mood, Damon. Just go back to staring at Elena’s crypt.” The reply was perhaps harsh, but so was he when he wanted to be. When he chose to leave. When Enzo chose to leave. But that wasn’t fair either, she knew. Enzo and her... they hadn’t worked. Not really, not in any way that could exist in the real world, in the world outside of their cabin, outside of those three years where all she had was him and all he had was her. She had loved him – maybe, once – but it wasn’t what she’d needed. It had nearly killed her.

“Harsh, witch.” Then there were these moments. Moments when Damon reverted back to poisonous  words and blatant disregard for the needs of others, when he simply was there because _he_ needed it, fuck what she needed. She was threw. If she chose to let Enzo go, if she could handle the pain that that had brought, then she wasn’t going to stand there and take his abuse. She had once told him she was putting herself first, maybe it was truly time to put it in practice.

“Damon, I don’t want you here.” She finally turn to look at him and his voice caught, lungs stuttering with air he didn’t need. Damon could see the exhaustion, could see the pain lingering in her gaze, could see the weariness better than perhaps even herself. She was wearing herself out – the were wearing her out, they’d _been_ wearing her out since they’d met – and he couldn’t bare it anymore.

“You know, you’re very annoying witch-y. I mean, have you ever-“

“Just stop. _Please_ , stop lying to me and stop lying to yourself, Damon.” She interrupted, her voice coming out as garbled as tears gathered in her eyes. She bit her lip, gaze heavenward and when she allowed their eyes to meet, he saw just how much hurt she’d endured the past year alone. _Too much. “_ You don’t care about me. You did once, I don’t deny that, but I’ll never be able to compete with Elena. And Sybil? Sybil replaced both me and her in your mind. There’s days you’re looking at me as if you’re seeing me for the first time. Do you have any idea-“ she chocked on an onslaught of tears that she forced herself to swallow back, then continued, voice lowering, a whisper in his ears. Bonnie walked closer, her bare feet on the wooden floor too loud, her hammering heartbeat filling the room, the saltiness of her skin – still flushed with sweat – pervaded every pore of his being. _Too much._

“Do you have any _idea_ how much it hurts to look at the person who used to know you best and to see them looking back as if they’ve never seen you before? I wish I could just smile and move past it. I wish we could just pick up where we left off, but I can’t do that, Damon. I owe it to you and I owe it to _meself_. I won’t just- I can’t just- I-“

“I get it, Bonnie. You slammed the door in my face and then ignored me every second you could afterward. Do you know how much _that_ hurt? Do you know how much it _hurt_ when your _best_ friend, the person you thought knew you best, doesn’t even stop to question why I’d desiccate? Did you even try and figure it out, or were you Enzo puppet that early? I chose you over Elena, not once, not twice, Bon. I _choose_ you every day and yet you still think I don’t see you?! Really?” his hand moved on their own accord, grabbing her shoulders tightly, pulling her closer and she went, like bees to honey. She refused to meet his gaze, but he didn’t care about that, as long as she listened as he had this past year – to every accusation, to every mocking remark, to every loving word to someone else, to every hateful one to him.

“You left becau-“ she yelled in his face, anger overtaking the hearache. They’d never even talked about it. It had happened and they’d never even talked – all they used to do was talk, when had that changed?

“I left because I love you!” he knew how this story would end. He’s seen it before – he’d lived it before – with Katherine, with Elena, with other before. His loved _too much,_ he cared _too much_.

“Yes, I know! Like Elena does! You said it before, Damon!” her heart was cracking, his words were the right ones, but they were not what he meant, not the way she needed them, not the way she’d always needed them. She felt _too much_ , she gave _too much_.

“No! I’m –“ he frose, eyes wide and crazy, story blue. His throat closed in on itself and she rose to her tip toes. Somehow, someway, he’d bent to her, his lips brushing hers with every furious word. She wanted to close the distance, she wanted to know what it felt like but it was...

He wanted to say it, he wanted to write the damn words in the sky and hold onto her warmth and judgement and kindness forever. He could feel her chest brushing his with every enraged breath, could see the soft highlights of her hair and the flecks of gold in the mossy green of her irises. He wanted to hold her but it was...

_Too much, always too much, and never enough. Always just pushing people away or holding onto them too tightly and they always want to leave. Maybe letting go should have a chance?_

“If you say it, _mean_ it. Don’t lie to me, Damon. I’ve been lied to enough.” She was expecting him to turn around, leave the room, heavy boots on wooden floorboards thunking away from her. They’d pretend then, pretend they could be friends again, pretend that there wasn’t this crevasse between them, this broken, festering wound. She’d do it. He’d do it. They _could_ do that, but they were too tired, too fed up with people accusing them of _too much_. Couldn’t they ever be just enough for some one? For each other? Weren’t they _enough_?

“I love you, _Bonnie_ Bennett.”


End file.
